There was no heat in the school, but hidden on the third floor in a tiny electronics office they were as safe as they’d ever be. Their body heat warmed the room, if only marginally. Ethan couldn’t believe how bad he smelled and wished the locker room downstairs still had working plumbing. There was probably nothing wrong with the nearly untouched campus, every water tower in Union had been destroyed and nothing in the area worked. Strange tactic, Ethan thought, destroying the water towers. What good would it do? Then it dawned on him. Without the water towers the electricity still flowing in the area would be useless for pumping new water into the towers. No water and people wouldn’t recolonize the area. Someone wanted to preserve the town. When Ethan shared his theory with Allen, the young man laughed. There was no strategy to it. The fighting here had seen to the destruction of anything useful before the town was overrun. Ethan countered with why would the school they were hiding in not be destroyed then? For that Allen had no answer, unless of course everyone died fighting in the city proper and no one was left to destroy this place too.
“We should think about occupying this place.” Allen said at long last.
“Why?”
“Because man, it’s like a fucking castle. Like Glenbard or something.”
“Glenbard?” Ethan started laughing, recognizing instantly the reference.
“You know the book?”
“‘The Girl Who Owned a City’ by O.T. Nelson? It was one of my childhood favorites! I reread it while I was in Iraq because I was bored. Magnificent book, but promoting what amounted to monarchy was maybe the wrong way to go with it. I don’t know that I could have written a post-apocalyptic book about children though. Something about kids limits where you can take the story.” Ethan sighed and smiled, thinking about how his interest in that book had been the beginning of all his fantasizing about a world much like the one he lived in, only as a child. Life after civilization had been a scary notion then, it was even worse in reality. The novelty of having an empty world all to himself had worn off as soon as he’d seen someone being eaten alive.
“So then you understand. I mean, just this building alone could be a great outpost. After reinforcing the ground level this would be perfect.”
“Yes it would. A castle on a hill.”
They joked into the night, talking fondly of the book they’d both read. There was nearly a ten year difference in their age and still they had enough in common to be this close. Ethan eventually had to break the mood.
“Do you ever think about the day with the Bloods?”
“Only on days that end in Y.” Allen answered quickly. He didn’t have the thousand yard stare most men who’d seen combat had from time to time. Maybe his reaction was delayed, or maybe he really was comfortable with what he’d done.
“Does it ever bother you?”
“Not as much as it should.” Allen put his spoonful of ChiliMac down and swallowed. “We all know the truth about what happened there. Some fucking gangbangers came to our doorstep and shot at us. Then, when John Peek shot a zombie, they shot at us again because they were so stupid, so ignorant in the ways of the world, that they wanted us to be their enemy. If they’d wanted help they wouldn’t have shot at us. They were so used to the chasm between Blacks and Whites because of our leaders trying to divide us rather than unite us, that they saw us as more of a threat than the fucking Zombies, man. Now, did I have to empty the entire belt into them? No, probably not. On hindsight I could have stopped firing after about twenty rounds, my helmet being blown off or not… But then we’d have never been rid of them, you understand? That was a lesson my brother taught me after his first deployment. If you don’t kill them all, then you’ll either end up giving them medical care after they’ve just killed your friends, or they’ll run and tell a CNN reporter and you’ll go to jail for doing your job. Think about it. What would that fat-fuck Kopland lady do with surviving gangbangers telling their fucking sob story over and over? There’s enough out-of-towners, scum from Chicago and the likes, who would listen to them. It would start a witch hunt, and we’d be the witches, every one of us who was there that day. Besides, they shot me in the head. Even if we were ever put on trial, I’m going to claim insanity and blame you.”
Ethan stared blankly at the seventeen year old for a moment before he started laughing. He didn’t have anything to say. Allen was right. They would all have been crucified before the alter of Political Correctness, Zombie Apocalypse be damned, if even one of the gang members had lived. The entire incident had been an excellent example of Better Them Than Us, the unspoken motto of the world they lived in. Morality didn’t have much to do with it, Survival was the only answer.
“Look, eventually it will catch up with us. No good deed ever goes unpunished, but I figure that by the time it does, by the time those who’d want us punished get around to it, the zombies will be rotted to the bone and we can spread out enough to get away from civilization. Hell, I was thinking Colorado might be nice with fewer Mexicans… er, people of the Beaner Persuasion I mean.”
Ethan laughed again. “Racist much?”
“Of course not. That would falsely imply I like white people best. I’m an equal opportunity hater.” Allen leaned back in a computer chair. “So in that regard, I’m way ahead of the curve in treating everyone equally.” Allen changed the subject. “What are you going to do when it’s all over?” It went without saying that “it” referred to the zombies.
“Probably the bare minimum.” Ethan admitted. “I hate farming. I’ve hated it all my life. My dad loved it though. My grandpa too. I can do it. It’s hard work, but everything you have is yours. There’s a certain appeal to it.”
“I assume I’ll end up being a salvage trader.” Allen burped aloud. “There’s a lot of material out there to salvaged. If Texas and Alaska are going to reign over this land they’ll need men like me to gather supplies for them.”
“Yeah, they worry me.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re not flying Old Glory.” Ethan sat up straighter. “Look, the American Flag stands for something. Just because the world has ended as we know it, doesn’t mean the last beacon of hope and liberty, of justice and freedom, has to fall too… I just don’t trust either state as an independent nation to retain the liberties promised by the Constitution. Hell, we could see them come back with a vengeance and be totalitarian dictatorships. And what happens when South America, Mexico even, starts putting itself back together? Shit, probably the only people in Mexico to hold out will have been corrupt government officials and drug lords rich enough to protect themselves.” Allen hadn’t thought about that and his expression showed it. “There’s going to be one fucking war after another if Texas doesn’t put them in their place first thing. Our commanders were always saying that once we mopped up the Infection we were going straight to war with Mexico. Think about it, we sit on the most desirable piece of land on the entire globe. Everyone from Hajj to Crazy Ivan know it’s undefended now. If anyone else survived with an intact army we could be in real trouble. In-fighting and zombies might be the least of our worries.”
With that depressing thought in mind they eventually fell asleep. The next morning they had a choice to make. Return to Sullivan without completing the mission, as they had only just enough fuel to go either way, or go to Washington and risk walking back. That was a potential death sentence, so they chose to go to Washington and hope they found fuel. The roadblock ended up taking over two hours to negotiate, serpentines of derelict cars cluttered the path, even off the pavement itself. If the zombies had been mobile they’d have never made it through so many. One particularly fat zombie blocked their path between two pickup trucks. Neither would get too close because what used to be a she was still snapping at them, though her rotted legs wouldn’t budge to take her close enough to attack them. The grotesque looking zombie’s feet were pinned by a car’s bumper, and frozen in place by the liquefying rot. The creature’s knees were fractured and bent backwards, but
somehow the snapping, bloated corpse kept standing, albeit precariously.
“Reminds me of a pair of birds feet attached to a hip-bone I found on a frozen tree branch. Cat must have found the frozen bird and eaten it off of its own hips.” Ethan got off his four-wheeler and looked into starting a 90’s model Nissan pickup that was nearby. It started, but with only vapors left in the tank.
“That’s really gross, Ethan.” Allen said, listening to the frozen flesh crackle as the fat zombie squirmed. “Thank you for sharing this moment with me.” He said after Ethan put the truck in reverse and plowed the frozen zombie over with a sloshy sounding thump. He left the truck and the bloated chunk of frozen snot that was the zombie beneath it in a ditch. The shoes and feet were still frozen to the road. Ethan smiled at the thought of seeing the faces of the next people to come through the area. If it was still winter the feet might still be there. What would they think to see the frozen feet? He considered leaving a letter for the next guy, but decided it would take too long. Could a hidden game camera really be worth it? Yes. That wasn’t really a question.
Riding as far as the edge of Washington, the two men found an abandoned farm house and took up a spotter’s position in the loft bedroom. Death Metal posters covered up a floral pattern wallpaper from the 1970’s, and the place smelled of whatever dog had lived there before it escaped out a broken window. A dead hamster was belly up in a cage by the computer desk, the woodchip smell of rodents permeated the room like a foul smelling air freshener. Allen started rooting around and found a few porn magazines and a stash of pot in a bowl under the bed. He rolled a joint, lit it, and watched as Ethan peered through the binoculars at the town below.
“Incorporated Washington looks abandoned. There’s a fucked up looking Army checkpoint with about a dozen frozen meat-sickles around it. I don’t see any smoke.” He smelled the air. “Scratch that, I’m getting a whiff of something most dank.”
Allen laughed and blew out a huge cloud. “Veray Niiiiice.” He tried to imitate the character Borat.
Ethan took the joint and hit it. “You suck at rolling these.”
“I normally use a vaporizer.” Allen coughed a little. “But this’ll do in a pinch. This shit is so old though…”
“What if we grew it? I know, demented thought, but hear me out.” Ethan began. He’d written several college papers on Hemp and the travesty of American Prohibition. Nicole had made him quit smoking years ago though. It didn’t change his view on the subject, not even after there was no government left to enforce prohibition. How many people died in prisons and jails across America when the zombies came? Hundreds of thousands probably. How many of them were incarcerated for nonviolent crimes like Possession of Narcotics? Now ask yourself how many of them deserved to be eaten alive in jail with no hope to defend themselves. Exactly.
“My dad used to grow his own pot.” Allen said. “He let all the plants die though.”
“With the world gone, there’s no manufacturing. Who’s gonna make medicine? There won’t be any more Ibuprofen, no Aspirin, no Vicoden or fresh opioides period. Penicillin and pain relievers are going to be more important than gasoline.”
“Wow.” Allen took a huge hit. “That’s fucking heavy, dude. We should do that. It would be much easier than salvage.”
“Yeah, the problem is convincing Duddly Dooright to let us. My brother has his head so far up his ass I don’t think it’s possible for him to see the light of day. Same goes for all the moron soccer moms and old people who don’t want to know the difference between weed and meth.”
“Why don’t we grow it out here?” Allen suggested.
“Because we’re in a nuclear winter.” Ethan pointed at the clouds. “There’s so much shit in the sky now we would need a large hydroponics bay to grow anything substantial. Farmers are going to figure this out next spring the hard way.”
“I guess a couple thousand burning cities can do that…”
“Yeah… We live in a world of ashes… We should stay here tonight. I saw some potato chips in the pantry and I’m gonna be fucking hungry in about two minutes.” Ethan laughed again, suddenly wishing there were a radio. Music was such an afterthought these days it had been a while since he’d been relaxed long enough to enjoy any. The kid’s Mp3 player was still on the dresser, fully charged. The metal-head who’d lived here before had a surprisingly broad taste in music, including Ethan’s beloved Evanescence. While Allen flipped through the porn magazines Ethan settled in for a well deserved nap with the ethereal acoustics of Amy Lee to drown out the horror.
The meat-pops, as the two of them were calling the frozen zombies, made only the most half-hearted attempts to get to them as they wound their way through the new incorporated area of Washington. Most of the stores had been looted, but then those weren’t their target. A small strip mall gun store, Nick’s Gun & Pawn, had been a favorite place for Ethan to get cheap ammo and visit with other “gun nuts.” Looters had burned most of the strip mall down, including his friend’s shop. Private residences and off the path stores were where the goods could be found these days.
Ethan had expected more of the same, every third building being burned, bodies and trash and junk littered everywhere, but that was anything but the case when they rolled through old town Washington. The riverfront was almost pristine, though covered in hundreds upon hundreds of frozen undead. The firefights had never made it this far past the hospital and high school, which were both burned to the ground and micro war-zones unto themselves. That was pretty typical though. Schools and hospitals were where people had been rallying, and where the government had set up most of their aid centers. Once the Army pulled out those sites were either blown up by the retreating units or fought over by survivors until nothing was left. The impact craters looked like the two buildings had been hit with 1500lbs JDAMs*.
“This is fucking surreal.” Allen’s eyes seemed perpetually wide, the silence broken only by their voices and the gently blowing wind. Snowflakes that had accumulated overnight scattered across roads and train tracks toward the river, building small berms around the feet of the zombies.
“Yeah. They must have seen them coming out of the water and abandoned this part of town. Didn’t want, or have time to destroy it.”
“We should leave and report what we found.” Allen dismounted and grabbed the siphoning kit. He headed for a Ford pickup that was still in a parking space when Ethan saw a door open on the car next to Allen. His first concern was a hidden bandit, but it was worse. A zombie, mostly unfrozen from the lack of wind-chill in the vehicle, crawled out. Before Ethan could squeeze off a round or warn Allen it bit down on the ankle of the boy’s shoe.
He screamed and leapt up and over the truck, his shoe still in the infected man’s mouth. Ethan blew it’s head off and killed every zombie within a hundred feet of them for good measure. Then he turned the gun on Allen.
“Allen?”
“Yeah?”
“You know exactly what I want to know.”
“No, bro.” Allen breathed deeply. “I’m bleeding, but it only smashed my shoe against me. I think my heel’s broken though. There’s no way the teeth got through.”
“You’ll understand if I want you to stay on that truck for a while longer.”
Allen nodded. “Yeah, I’ll stay up here. Any chance you can toss up a new pair of socks and a bandage? And maybe a new pair of underwear? I don’t think these are… hmmm… ‘Fresh’ anymore.”
Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. The infection wasn’t instantaneous. You usually had five minutes before the rage phase, but in those five minutes the person was incoherent and often terrified as their blood began to almost literally boil. Allen was the picture of calm. Injured, but calm.
Ten minutes went by while Ethan checked all the nearby vehicles, keeping an eye on Allen all the while. “Are you okay?”
“No. My foot fucking hurts. It’s gotta be broken. I need to get home.”
“Okay, you get yourself situated on your bike
and I’ll siphon the gas.” Allen crawled slowly off the truck and mounted his four-wheeler. He watched while Ethan filled their gas tanks and made the dressing on his foot tighter. “I guess we’re gonna have to start checking zombie’s shoe sizes. You’ll need a new pair.” Ethan tried to lighten the mood of near-death.
“Think we can swing back by the house? I left the stash there. Unless you have anything else for the pain?”
Ethan sighed, glad his friend was okay. “Yeah, sure. I can wrap your foot up in those Kleenex cozies while you toke it up. Asshole. You scared me.”
“I scared you?” Allen turned his ATV on. “You’re not the one wearing homemade Depends…”
Back home Ethan let Lee have it. Keith and Paula stayed outside, pretending to work on Keith’s new truck. They could hear every word, though they both knew much more about what was going on from Lee’s perspective.
“And who the fuck are you to send a kid to do this kind of shit? I mean, there’s very few people I’d rather have with me than Allen Broadwhick, but you don’t have the right!”
“Yes, Ethan, I do. Besides, you didn’t say no.”
“I shouldn’t have to. Is this because you’re a lieutenant? An officer, the fucking gentry? Fuck you.”
“No, I was a lieutenant in an organization that no longer exists. Here, I am the defacto Lieutenant Mayor and next week the official town Sheriff. There’ll be a vote in the spring and I have no intentions of running for any office, but for now I am making military decisions with the authority of Mayor Kenly. Make any sense to you?”
Ethan leaned in real close over the kitchen table, “Military decisions? Are you fucking serious?”
“Yes, Goddamnit!” Lee had had enough of Ethan’s attitude, as if their scuffle a few weeks ago hadn’t already settled it. “Military mother fucking decisions. Why? Because since you’re so obviously convoluted in your ripe old age you can’t come to grips with the fact that we’ve been at war since Twenty Twelve! Remember the Nogales Riots? I was there, Ethan. They were zombies then, and they’re still zombies now. I have the experience and expertise that this town needs. So yes, Military fucking Decisions.”
World of Ashes Page 14
